Treasure Hunting
by xDracoGenesisx
Summary: A nervous wood elf and his cocky Dunmer companion run into trouble in a Nordic tomb. Tavros really doesn't like messing with dead people. Skyrimstuck AU ; mild Tavros/Vriska.


**A/N: I was surprised that no-one's made a Homestuck and Skyrim crossover yet, so I made one myself. It should be noted that the Nordic tomb they're in is general and not intended to be a specific tomb found in the game.**

**-x-**

_**Treasure Hunting.**_

**-x-**

A sickening crunch resonated throughout the catacombs as the steel head of a war hammer collided with the ribcage of a Draugr.

_He hated that noise._

Tavros withdrew his heavy weapon with some effort from the fallen creature, trying not to stare at its deformed, sinewy corpse. He was just a wood elf; a short, scrawny one at that; he wasn't meant for this kind of combat.

But _she _had insisted on it.

The dark elf beside him grinned wickedly. "Nice job, Pupa," she said, a hint of taunting in her voice. He wasn't really sure where she'd pulled that nickname, but he was too passive (more accurately, scared) to question it.

Vriska wasn't someone to be messed with.

She kicked the Draugr's body before turning to him and tapping his nose. "You're gonna need to do more than that if you want to be as strong as me, pathetic little Bosmer!" The torchlight in the room glinted off of her left eye, blinded in an obscure incident with a high elf in the past. That, paired with her slightly vicious grin, left Tavros feeling uneasy. He gulped slowly and nodded.

The Dunmer grabbed his arm and dragged him further into the catacombs. It was eerily quiet besides their footsteps, and he found himself cringing at every noise and bump he heard.

"Will you _calm down_, Tavros? By Azura, you're a weakling! Weak, weak, weak!"

"Vriska, I, uh, never signed up for this…"

"Who cares? Clearing out catacombs is always good training. Plus, we'll loot it and get rich in the process! Don't you want to be strong?"

"W-well, uh, I guess…"

"Then come _on!_ Geez, what do they teach you in Valenwood, how to be useless?"

Though he was hurt by the comment, he held his tongue and followed her obediently. He'd gotten used to her insults by now, and they didn't bother him much. But occasionally, like just now, they hit home. His spirits dropped even further as homesickness sunk in. He hadn't even asked to come to Skyrim. He hadn't even asked for a lot of things in his life. But he got them anyway.

_I guess I just have rotten luck._

They continued through the ancient Nordic catacombs, bringing down the occasional Draugr and taking extra care to go through every urn and chest they came across. Tavros' uneasiness didn't go away.

"Vriska, aren't there usually, um, more Draugr in these places?"

"Yeah, I guess. Maybe someone else already got 'em."

"But I, uh, don't see any signs of another person having been through here…"

"Will you stop worrying and get on with it?"

She whirled on him and pushed her face close to his, glaring at him. He clamped his jaw shut and backed away, slightly distracted by the fact that his cheeks had grown warm. They continued on once more, but Tavros could not shake the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. The two elves finally approached a large golden door, bearing three spinning panels and a set of four holes arranged in a claw formation. Vriska grinned.

"And here's where we put that claw to use!" The Dunmer drew a golden dragon claw out of her leather pouch and examined it, shifting the panels on the door so that they matched the symbols engraved on the claw. Then, smirking, she pushed the claw into the keyholes on the door and turned it. With a grating sound that echoed down the corridor, the door slid open.

Vriska took a few steps forward, but Tavros hesitated. She turned back to him, rolling her eyes. "Come on, Pupa, don't waste time!" She took his hand and pulled him into the room behind the door; he jumped as it grated back into place behind them.

Before them was a large, rectangular room lined with old sarcophaguses and fallen rubble. At the end of the room was a high-backed throne atop a raised platform. A limp, armored corpse sat slumped over a cluttered table positioned in front of the throne. Vriska's eyes lit up and she grinned.

"This is fantastic! I can already imagine the riches we'll find in here!"

She ran forward to search the room over for gold and jewels while Tavros stood near the doorway, shifting uncomfortably. His gaze flitted around the room while his mind mulled over all of the terrible things that could happen here. He didn't like any of it, not one bit. Nordic tombs always gave him the chills; it was best not to mess with the dead, in his opinion. But Vriska loved treasure hunting, and though catacombs were out of his comfort zone, he did like the occasional adventure. He just wished she would be more cautious.

The dark elf was rifling through a large chest when she called out to Tavros.

"Hey, Toreasnore! Check out what that dead guy's got on him, will you?"

She tossed her head backwards, motioning towards the heavily armored corpse at the head of the room. He gulped, but nodded; he wasn't sure what scared him more, dishonoring dead Nords or getting on Vriska's bad side.

The wood elf ran a hand through his fluffy, dark-brown mohawk before tentatively starting towards the end of the room. He glanced side-to-side nervously, his hand on the shaft of his war hammer. When he reached the dead Draugr, he pulled it upright slowly, nervously reaching a hand under its armor to search for a gem or a coin purse. Maybe he could just tell Vriska that it didn't have anything useful. He really had a bad feeling about this.

Suddenly, the Draugr's eyes lit up and its hand snapped out, grasping the collar of Tavros' armor and pulling him down. It snarled and Tavros screamed.

"Vriska! It's not dead!"

Vriska's head shot up and she jumped to her feet. "Dammit!" The coffins lining the walls shook as armored Draugr burst forth from each of them, their unearthly snarls creating a deadly chorus.

Tavros scrabbled at the Draugr's hand, his heart racing and sweat drenching his forehead as he fought against its grip. It hissed something in the ancient Nord language; though Tavros could not understand it, it terrified him and he quickened his attempts at escape. A firm grasp on his shoulders told him that Vriska had run up to help him; she tugged him back and out of the Draugr's grasp. The frightened wood elf scrambled for his war hammer and brought it down on the creature's skull, stunning it enough for the two to escape.

"Tavros, why do I always have to save your scrawny ass?"

"W-We're not safe yet, Vriska!"

There were at least ten Draugr drawing in around them. The elves pushed themselves back-to-back. Tavros tried to tighten his grip on his hammer, but his hands were still shaking. Vriska had drawn her scimitar and readied an illusion spell. He squeezed his eyes shut.

_Come on, Tavros! Be brave! You're confident! You can do this!_

Tavros reopened his eyes and ran at the Draugr in front of him, letting out a sad attempt at a battle cry. He smashed through the first Draugr with a powerful swing of his hammer, and managed to parry an attack from a second just in time. There was the sound of chaos on the opposite side of the room as Vriska's Mayhem spell turned a few of the Draugr against each other. Tavros scuffled with the Draugr he'd parried, eventually stunning it enough to get in a few hurried blows until it collapsed. Two more faced him, advancing slowly.

Adrenaline fueling the speed of his reactions, he used his natural conjuring ability to summon an ethereal wolf to his side. The spirit wolf snarled and leaped at the creatures, tearing at their rotting flesh. He was too slow in deciding his next move; an arrow whizzed past his head, catching his attention. Another followed, and he managed to duck down before it hit him. As the wolf tore at his assailants, he took in his surroundings; Vriska's spell had caused quite a few of the Draugr to kill each other off, and she was currently facing two of them at once, hacking and blocking with her scimitar. Tavros ran towards them and raised his hammer, smashing it down upon one of her attackers. As she brought down the second, she faced him, panting.

"I didn't need your help," she snapped, but the blood upon her forehead told him otherwise.

Vriska never did bring healing potions with her.

Tavros' summoned wolf killed the last of the Draugr before dissipating. But they weren't out of danger yet.

"That's a Draugr Deathlord," Vriska hissed, staring at the heavily armored Draugr as it slowly stood from its throne. Tavros gulped. The dark elf took a breath before charging, her sword raised. Tavros followed after a second, but something stopped him. The Draugr uttered three words; they weren't ancient Nordic, and he'd never heard them before; and a wave of energy flew towards them. Vriska swerved out of the way, but Tavros was caught in its force. He was thrown backwards, the breath knocked out of his lungs as he crashed to the ground half-way across the room.

His head was swimming, but he could hear Vriska clashing with the Deathlord. Her short gasps of pain every now and then worried him, and he tried to get to his feet as fast as he could. His head was pounding and his muscles quivered from strain. The wood elf couldn't focus his vision and everything was blurry. Squinting, he turned his head towards the battle. Vriska had been thrown to the ground by a powerful blow from the creature's war axe. She scrambled backwards; she tried to cast a spell, but her Magicka was dry, and her scimitar had been tossed to the ground some feet away. She needed help.

Tavros' half-conscious gaze fell upon something at his feet, and he reached out slowly to grasp it.

_Come on, pull it together! What is this? A bow? A bow. Wood elves are the best archers in Tamriel._

His mind recalled facts he'd heard as a child back in Valenwood; no other race in all of Tamriel could rival a wood elf in archery. But Tavros had not used a bow in some time. As he fit an arrow to the bow and pulled back the string, he prayed that his instincts would take over. He aimed at the Deathlord as it slowly lifted the axe for a final blow. He held his breath.

He released the string.

The arrow sailed through the air and embedded itself in the Draugr's skull. The creature froze, releasing a sputtering growl before dropping its axe and falling forward.

Tavros' head finally cleared, and he climbed to his feet. The Draugr had fallen on top of Vriska, but she pushed it off, fingering the arrow protruding from its head thoughtfully. He approached her slowly and she stared at him, a hint of curiosity in her eyes.

"That was, uh, pretty intense," he said, smiling slightly. Her arms and face were covered in cuts, and she wiped some blood from her forehead.

"It was nothing. I've been in worse."

As she stood, he went into his satchel and took out a small red vial, handing it to her.

"Here, it's not much, but it'll help the wounds heal, um, faster." She took the potion and stared at it skeptically.

"You couldn't have found a better one? Whatever."

As she popped the cork and drank the red liquid, he laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head and averting his gaze.

_At least she's still herself, I guess._

Vriska wiped the rest of the blood from her face as the wounds began to scab over; potions did work quickly. She looked at him, a strange expression in her eyes that he couldn't place.

"You gonna take a potion, too?"

Was she actually asking him that?

"Me? Uh, no, I'm fine, really." That was a lie. His head still hurt, and he thought he could feel something warm dripping down the back of his neck.

But he'd given her his last potion.

She shrugged. "Whatever."

The Dunmer knelt to loot the Draugr Deathlord's body, procuring a hefty coin purse and a grand soul gem. Tavros was silent. When she stood, it was another few moments before one of them spoke.

"So… thanks, I guess," she mumbled, holding up the bloody arrow that she'd pulled from the creature's cranium.

He gave a small smile, looking at the ground.

"Uh, no problem. I, um, didn't do much though, really…"

"Don't let the fact that I thanked you get to your head though, Pupa. You're still a weakling. Got it?"

"Uh, yeah, I know…"

She tossed her hair back over her shoulder and turned from him, heading towards the exit. He watched her for a moment, smiling. He'd always kept an open mind about Vriska; even though she acted like she didn't care about anyone, he knew that deep down, she did.

Maybe he was right after all.

**-x-**


End file.
